


My Blood Runs Blue

by anajoyy



Category: My Blood Runs Blue
Genre: Cliffhanger, F/F, F/M, angsty elorcan, anyway, but that part wont published for a bit, here ya go, malide - Freeform, og ffn post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anajoyy/pseuds/anajoyy
Summary: just some malide nice stuff :))) // i have some extra chapters but i probably won't publish them, and only publish the first five chapters // sorry it ends on a cliffhanger oop //





	1. "devoted promises"

Elide didn’t have to have a heightened sense of smell to realize that Manon was different that morning in the palace. She sat, half-asleep in the bed while Manon took all of twenty minutes to get ready, confused because of the witch’s early rise. Elide was usually the first one awake, and, most of the time, she’d wake up Manon a few minutes before breakfast.

“Will you be finished any time soon?” Elide asked, raking a hand through her tangled hair. Though she could still hear running water, there was no response from Manon. She sighed, shrugging her shoulders and laid back down on her bed.

After gods know how much time, Manon emerged from the bathroom in only a towel that could only be described as… too short for the witch’s long legs. Gulping, Elide thought back to the first time she’d slept in Manon’s rooms, when she found out that the Wing Leader of the Ironteeth Witches slept naked. It was… surprising?

“I… assume you’re done with the bathing room?” Elide asked once again, and Manon turned to her, water going everywhere from her wet hair as she nodded. She got up from her bed and went to the bathroom, beginning to undress.

After bathing and doing everything she’d normally do in the morning, Elide came out to see that Manon had left the room again. 

_Odd._

She ignored it anyway, changing into a simple pale blue dress that ended right above her knees and sandals. She braided her hair to the side, not bothering to try and put on cosmetics so late in the morning. After she was finished, she left the room to go to the dining hall.

“Good morning, Elide. I see today your ever-so-pleasant roommate decided to come down before you.” Aelin laughed from the head of the large wooden table, Rowan and Aedion both diagonal from her. Manon snarled at Aelin, clearly playfully, and went back to eating a piece of bread. Elide chuckled and found a seat, next to Manon and across from Lysandra.

“Possibly my tardiness was the result of _someone_ waking up at an ungodsly time and spending the entire morning in the bathroom for no reason.” Elide raised an eyebrow at Manon, causing Lysandra to chuckle.

“Nothing I do is without reason, Elide.” Manon put down a fork with a wink to Elide, pouring herself a glass of water.

“Are you sure you’d like that water? Or would you like to…” Aedion trailed off as he brushed his hair to the side, exposing his neck with a devilish grin. Manon rolled her eyes, and Elide looked at Aelin, who’d usually step in at this point to break up the two before the clawed at each other too badly, but the queen was intently staring at her carranam, him staring back. She held back a laugh as everyone at the table’s eyes turned to the pair. 

Rowan raised his eyebrows. Aelin smirked, her cheeks flushing. Aedion groaned.

“By the Wyrd, you’d think you guys would get the hint and stop having eye-sex _every_ _day_ at breakfast. The two of you share a room every night. Speaking of such, would you mind not being so loud in your… devoted promises to each other?” Aedion took a long gulp of wine, and Rowan turned to him.

“It’s not my fault that Lysandra refuses to visit your rooms and you have to use your hand every night, Aedion.” The warrior said with a flash of his fangs. Everything between these Fae was a dominance battle, every way that they positioned themselves, the way they spoke, the things they said, what they ate… 

Aelin slapped her hands on the table at the same time Elide caught Lysandra place a hand on Aedion’s thigh, and he snapped his eyes straight forward, eyebrows raised slightly.

“Okay, okay, save the killing for when you guys are not on my marble floors, please? Do it outside. Anyway, I will be going to Adarlan today. In light of Erawan’s defeat, Dorian is holding a ball, and all of you are invited, though only come if you want to.” Aelin said, then continued to devour the food on her plate. “Resume your quarrels, keep it to minimal blood.” With that, Rowan snarled at Aedion, who flipped his knife upwards and grinned from ear to ear, causing everyone to laugh.

-

-

 


	2. "iron fangs"

Elide didn’t expect Manon to wear a dress to the ball.

Manon did not wear dresses. Elide had never seen her in one, and couldn’t imagine the witch with her hair in a fanciful undo and her feet in ridiculously high sandals. She couldn’t even bring herself to wonder why she thought of what the witch would wear…if the witch would go. Altogether, Elide didn’t actually think Manon would go to the ball…truly, she didn’t even think she herself would go. But when the seventh hour of the afternoon rolled around, Elide found herself rushing to someone she knew would help her with one of her problems.

Elide knocked on the shapeshifter’s door, pleading to borrow a dress for the ball. After the initial soft smile Lysandra gave her, a flash of an emotion Elide couldn’t place went through her eyes. She disappeared into her room for a second, and a few moments later, Aedion was at the door, hands behind his back. Elide stumbled back.

“Gods, I’m sorry to…interrupt anything. I think I’ll be going.” Elide stammered, holding back a loud, snorty laugh. 

The demi-Fae warrior just laugh and put his hands in front of him, holding five different dresses. Slowly, he shrunk in height and muscular build, his sunshine-golden hair switching to longer, ebony hair. In a matter of moments, a grinning Lysandra stood before her. 

“Lysandra, stop doing that! By the Wyrd!” A yell came from behind the door, clearly the real Aedion, and Lysandra grinned devilishly.

“Here you go, Elide Lochan. These are some of my dresses from when…” she trailed off slowly, then cleared her through and blinked her eyes to get rid of the dark expression that lingered there. “Yes, um, you can keep these. Just let me know if they might need altering.” Lysandra handed Elide the dresses and dipped back behind her door before Elide had the chance to thank her, and she barely caught Aedion reaching for her hand and kissing the top of her head.

Elide decided that she didn’t want to know the horrors of Lysandra’s background—not that what she’d done, what she’d been forced to do was horrible, but that she couldn’t imagine how her patrons treated her.

Her train of thought was cut short by running headfirst into Manon’s chin. If her head has been ducked any lower, her face would have connected with the witch’s… chest. A smirk slid across the witch’s face, her mouth free of the iron fangs she so regularly kept out, mainly for intimidation. 

“I see you’ll be attending the ball.” Chuckled Manon, taking a step back. Elide surveyed her, noticing that the only thing that covered Manon was a thin black dressing gown.

“Yes, I decided to, and just stopped by Lysandra’s room to ask to borrow a dress, as you can see.” She held up the dresses that weighed down her arm, and Manon surveyed the various styles of dresses, eventually moving her golden eyes to Elide’s dark ones.

“How delightful. I’ll be seeing you there.” With that, Manon walked off in the opposite direction of their room.

-

-

 


	3. "terrasen's trinity"

Aelin was the first one to leave for the ball. 

Elide imagined how it must feel for someone like Aelin, who had fought longer and harder than women and men twice her superior, who had savored all things lavish and extravagant, who had fought for her country back to attend another ball, that was held, in essence, to celebrate her.

Atop of a large white wyvern rode Aelin herself, Fleetfot, and Rowan… The trinity of Terrasen, perhaps. Elide spied all of this from her and Manon’s window as she unraveled the curlers she’d asked Lysandra to set in her hair, and that Aelin had dried briefly with only a twinge of her fire.

Her hair, which had grown quite long since the war had been won, ended right above her waist. Smiling, she brushed some rouge onto her cheeks, and added a larger amount to her full lips. It was the finishing touch to her look, not that she even had on her dress yet. Truthfully, she hadn’t even chosen one. 

Elide bit her bottom lip as she surveyed the dresses, putting aside the two that were made for someone with a more…supple body, especially around the hips and chest. That left three: one green, one golden, the other a pale blue. The green one was made of soft velvet, and would definitely hug her tightly, which must have meant Lysandra would have been in her early teens when she wore it, which also made Elide wonder why she’d kept it. The golden one was beyond anything Elide had ever worn, and the dangerously low neckline and high slit up the left side made Elide decide she would not wear it. The last dress, spun with pale blue silk, was more simple than the other ones. A few jewels adorned the neckline, but that was about all of the dress’ decorations. 

After a moment of consideration, Elide picked up the green velvet dress and ran her hands along the fabric. It felt so… luxurious. More than Elide had ever worn in the past, better even than the clothes she’d ordered from various small boutiques once she’d arrived in Terrasen after the war.

It was a bit of a struggle to get into, as the velvet didn’t budge very much, but Elide, at last, got the last button on the back fastened. With a sigh, she smoothed down a few wrinkled and slowly turned to the mirror.

“By the Wyrd,” murmured Elide.

The dress was something out of a fairy tale.

A fairy tale in which Terrasen had always thrived and Elide was always serving by Aelin’s side, one without her damned uncle, one where she’d fall in love and marry…

“Manon!” yelped Elide, startled by the witch, who lingered by the door in a finely crafted tunic and pants.

Manon’s light pink lips spread into a smile as she laughed, tossing the dressing gown she’d been in before onto her bed.

“Lysandra and Aedion are on the wyvern to Adarlan, and only a few other courtiers are coming after, so we’ll be the last people on the more armored wyverns. We leave in a bit.” Manon sat down on the bed and loosened her hair from the braid that slid over her shoulders.

Elide took a deep, steady breath when she realized Manon was going to be staying, and turned from side to side in the large mirror, looking at the simple dress, the emerald fabric that clung to her… maybe too tightly, or maybe not. It just depended on who she was keeping company.

Although Lysandra might have been younger when she’d worn the dress, the shapeshifter had clearly still been taller. The dress, although it fit snugly around her chest and hips and dipped elegantly at the curve of her waist, pooled slightly at her feet. 

_Stunning._

“Manon?” called Elide as she searched through her sparse jewelry drawer, pulling out a set of a pearl necklace and small earrings. The witch looked as if she’d been snapped out of a reverie, responding with a quick, “Yes?”

The pearls dangled from Elide’s slender fingers as she held it out toward Manon, who got up slowly. She unclasped the necklace and got close enough to Elide that she knew she could smell the heavenly perfume that she had dabbed there earlier. 

Manon’s cool fingertips brushed against Elide’s neck, and it was all she could do to not respond in a physical way. It seemed to take her half an eternity to clasp the necklace, and when she finally did, Elide loosed a breath with a murmured thanks.

Once she’d gotten in the earrings herself, she turned to Manon with a final sigh. The witch raised an eyebrow.

“So… how do I look?” questioned Elide, although she already knew that she looked great.

Manon smiled cunningly, letting her iron fangs slide into place so Elide could see them clearly. Almost suddenly, Elide’s eyes flickered to Manon’s hands where she’d expected to find iron nails, the ones that had slashed through her grandmother that one fateful day, that she kept extended every day and only filed when she was sure people was watching. Now that she thought about it, Manon’s every move truly was calculated, like a quiet yet aggressive demonstration of her power…not over everyone, but over herself. She kept iron locks on her so everyone knew that what they saw was a perfect version of someone who’d spent a century—more—crafting and fine-tuning her image.

But there were no signs of the fierce iron claws. Only smooth, natural fingernails. Elide smiled and looked back up at Manon, whose eyes snapped up to meet Elide’s.

“Ravishing,” murmured the witch, who shook her head quickly, as if to clear her mind. She stood, close enough to Elide that she could see the dark eyelashes that contrasted so starkly with the witch’s white hair. She held out a single, clawless hand, smirking.

“Shall we?”


	4. "a single bed"

Elide had never been to the famous palace in Rifthold, but it seemed everyone else who lived in Terrasen had, which made it all the more embarrassing as Elide slowly got off of Abraxos and gaped in awe at the sheer beauty of the palace.

The Terrasen palace was… a work in progress, at best. Aelin, since being freed from Maeve’s clutches, had been working hard to get Terrasen back, defeat Maeve, lock up Erawan, and seal the Wyrdgates that she barely even had time to think of the palace’s aesthetic value most times. Even now, months after the war was over, the palace was still very much lacking.

Dorian’s—Adarlan’s palace was beautiful. The glass wall that once surrounded the city had been removed by some force of magic, maybe Dorian or whoever he had called upon for help. The new palace was crafted from white marble with swirls of marvelous pastel colors.

“Elide, the entrance is this way.” Manon said, walking straight ahead to a grand set of doors. Once they reached there, they saw a muscular man with light brown hair standing guard. His hand tightened around his sword at the sight of Manon.

“Chaol Westfall. I didn’t think I’d see you again. I’d presumed you were dead in the months after the ordeal that turned Rifthold, essentially, to glass. Imagine my surprise when I found out that this human, struck dumb out of his love for the prince—whatever that may be, had survived. Unscathed, as well.” Surveyed Manon.

His head dipped in what one might call a bow. 

“The Torre Cesme did wondrous things for me, and I am forever in their debt,” said the man she now knew was Chaol. If only he knew all the things—good and bad—Aelin had said about him over dinner conversations. “The event is in the main ballroom. I assume you’ve been there before… you likely know your way around here.” Nipped Chaol.

Manon sneered at him, showing her iron teeth. 

It took Elide a bit to understand.

Manon had once been involved with Dorian, with the now King of Adarlan. She’d heard it in passing from Lysandra, who, every now and then, would murmur something about ‘chains’ and quickly shift into an insect and fly away before Manon could do anything to her. She’d always thought it was a joke, that maybe they’d flirted on the boat that everyone had shared, but nothing more. 

Apparently, there was much more.

Manon pulled a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it into the strip of fabric that held all of hair up, and began to walk. Elide followed behind, her legs doing twice the work, as they were  a good few inches shorter than Manon’s.

“I didn’t know you bedded Dorian.” Elide blurted out after too long of silence. 

Manon continued walking.

“I mean, it’s fine, I’m not going to judge you. Why would I? It’s just…I thought, you know…” Elide trailed off.

Manon turned to her, golden eyes ablaze.

“You thought what? You thought that I’d tell you? I don’t have to tell you, or anyone, for that matter, anything.” She kept walking, and Elide slowly felt anger trickle up her spine.

They walked into the ballroom and greeted a few people, Elide kissing their cheeks and Manon shaking hands. They greeted the king, as well, who was civil to both of them.

When they stopped along a table lined with foods, Elide finally felt the anger rise to her chest. She put her hand on the table.

“You know what, Manon? No, you don’t have to tell me anything. Quite frankly, you don’t have to do _anything_ for me, but guess what? You did. You saved me from my uncle, carried me away from Morath as it burned, told me how to get to Terrasen. You did those things because you care… about me, for me, I don’t know. I don’t even know if there’s a difference. But you can’t act like you _don’t_ care. You can’t tell me that I’m just like anyone else to you.” Elide was angry, but kept her voice low enough that no one but Manon would hear. 

The witch met her eyes and said nothing. Moments passed, and still she was silent.

Elide sighed frustratedly. 

“Actually, forget it. If I’m just like anyone else to you, that’s fine. Why would I care? I don’t.” Lied Elide, and she knew Manon knew she wasn’t telling the truth. With that, Elide pivoted on her heel and walked away to go socialize with Nesryn, whom she seldom talked with.

Small talk was exchanged by them for a bit, Elide only half-focused, when Nesryn said a polite goodbye, striding out the doors, presumably to switch places with Chaol.

With a deep breath, Elide looked around the room for a moment before stepping out into the hallway, and climbed up the stairs to the room she’d be staying in tonight—with Manon. Aelin hadn’t informed her that everyone would be staying the night, but apparently the entire Terrasen court would be staying at the palace, if only to give the wyverns a chance to rest—she’d only informed her once they’d arrived.

She shut the door behind her, not bothering to look around the spacious area. She simply took out the earrings and lay on the bed.

After an hour of half-sleep, Elide heard the door creak open, and light footsteps stop once they reached the bed.

“Gods above,” Manon muttered. Elide opened her eyes, pissed.

“If you’re going to complain about my speech, save it for—“ Elide was cut off.

“No… that’s not it. The bed.” Manon looked past Elide’s head, to the single headboard.

_A single headboard, for a single bed…_

“Not my fault.” Elide covered her eyes, deeming this an issue for her to deal with later. If anything, she’d just request for Dorian to give her a different room, but, still, it made her think…

 _Who chose for them to have a room with one bed? Did others think that they_ …

Elide could tell Manon was thinking the same thing. The witch sat on the bed next to her, pulling her white hair loose and letting it fall over her shoulders. Elide sat up, crossing her legs. Her knees almost touched Manon’s thighs, while the witch sat, facing the wall.

“Elide,” Manon began, dragging a hand down her face. “Elide… I shouldn’t have said that I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. The only reason I said that… I just…”

Elide didn’t quite remember what happened in the next few moments. She knew that she wanted to do it, found herself staring at Manon’s cheeks as she continued on, then to her lips.

“Manon,” she whispered. Manon didn’t hear her, and continued trying to explain, but Elide was sure she understood.

“Manon.” Repeated Elide, and when she still didn’t respond, Elide rose up to her knees and pressed her lips against Manon’s.

Heat rushed through her body, along with an odd sense of belonging, of comfort. Manon’s lips felt soft against hers, and, at first, the witch hesitated against Elide’s lips. 

Elide was about to draw back when she felt Manon’s hands venture to her hair, getting entangled in the maze of curls that she’d slept on earlier.

The witch tasted like cinnamon and fire, Elide felt she was going to burn under her touch, yet couldn’t draw herself away. Eventually, though, Manon removed her lips.

“I’ve got the slightest feeling you’ve been meaning to do that for a while, Elide Lochan.” She smirked. Elide only smiled, placing her hand on Manon’s face.

“Listen, Manon… I care for you, and I know the feeling is mutual. I see it whenever you inch closer to me unconsciously, and when you trust me enough to fall asleep in the same room as me… I understand what you’ve been through, and I’ll hope you understand my past, too. I understand how you are, that you’re scared of this, but I want you to know that this—us—is real, we’re real. I know it’ll be difficult for you to…be with me, and I can comprehend that. I just want you never to forget that I care about you, Manon Blackbeak.”

A tear slid from Manon’s eye as she lowered her hand to Elide’s neck and answered her question with a slow, intimate kiss.

 


	5. "whatever you say"

Elide didn’t quite know what she expected the next morning. Her and Manon had fallen asleep in the same bed, but the most action either of them had gotten besides the kisses was getting out of bed and changing out of their clothes into sleepwear.

Now cold sunshine rushed in through the blinds, and Elide shivered under the covers. Although Terrasen was technically farther north than Adarlan, Aelin’s fire magic always kept the palace at a livably warm temperature. She wasn’t quite sure if it was purposeful or not.

Dorian, though his magic could posses any form he chose, preferred his ice powers over them all. Consequently, the Adarlanian palace, Elide had come to learn, was much, _much_ colder.

Elide struggled to remember what she’d put on to go to bed last night, but, looking down, realized that _maybe_ her memory of getting up to change into sleepwear was a bit inaccurate, considering that the most clothing she had on now was, well, the sheets that draped over her and Manon.

“Well, shit,” muttered Elide as she sat up in bed, the sheets dragging with her and off of Manon’s body who, luckily, had clothes on. How odd, that the tables were turned for once.

The witch awoke with a jump, looking both sides quickly as if to scan for a potential threat before sighing and looking down, as if trying to avoid Elide.

“Manon, did we…?” She prayed to every god she knew of that she wouldn’t have to finish the question. Manon, allowing herself a quick, though clearly indulgent glance at Elide’s body, shook her head firmly before laying back down and rubbing at her temples.

“By the Wyrd… What did I have to drink last night?” Her words were lazy and messy.

“We-were you drunk?” questioned Elide gingerly. 

“Yes, judging on this headache. I only really remember us having some argument and you leaving and me drinking. What a lovely night.” At this point, her eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to block out all of the light.

Did that mean Manon last night, the one she kissed, wasn’t the real Manon, but some alcohol-saturated knockoff? Elide felt the same anger from the night before rise in her, but quickly leashed it as she stood up, choosing to leave the sheets on the bed. If Manon wanted to not remember, fine. But what the witch wouldn’t forget was that she clearly wanted Elide. Badly, if last night was any indication.

“Oh. Odd. Did anything else happen?” she pressed on farther, not bothering to put on any clothes. Elide stretched with a loud noise that fell somewhere between a sigh and a moan, with a glance back, could see that Manon had one eye cracked open.

“I don’t really know. I might have come up here and kissed—“ she stopped talking as Elide completely turned to face Manon, “—someone. It was probably a dream, though.” Manon averted her eyes farther and retreated under the sheets.

“When are we leaving?” questioned Manon. Elide initially only shrugged, then realized that Manon couldn’t see her. 

“I don’t know. I’ll go track down Dorian or Aelin and ask one of them.” Elide looked around the room for clothes to put on, eventually settling for a pair of pants and a tunic that Manon had brought in her saddlebag. They were a few sizes to big for her, but she just rolled up the arms and legs and walked out of the room with a huff.

The hall in the palace was empty, and Elide figured that no one had awoken yet—they’d probably just gotten to bed a few hours ago.

Looking ahead, though, Elide spotted a figure she never thought she’d see again.

“Lorcan,” Elide’s voice sounded like a simple breath, but it was enough for the male to turn around. Surprise flashed through his deep brown eyes, and he furrowed his brows.

“What are you doing here?” asked Elide, who had began to walk toward him. She stopped a casual distance away.

“I came here last night with Fenrys and Gavriel. Gavriel wanted to visit his son. He hasn’t seen him since the end of the war.” Lorcan took a moment to look at Elide, studying her in that way she’d learned most immortals do.

Suddenly self-conscious, Elide adjusted her loose-fitting tunic.

“Well, why are you here, then?” It was true that her and Lorcan had eventually come to be civil towards one another after a few months of ginger silence, but they’d never gotten back to the point where they once were. Lorcan was off in Wendlyn most of the time, and, now that Maeve was gone, spent more time with the rest of the ex-cadre.

“I wanted to see how rebuilding is going on. Seems… nice.” His coal-black hair grazed his shoulders as he smiled slightly. Elide loosed a small breath, and he cocked his head.

“Are you… okay?” He asked. Elide looked down, shaking her head.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Elide muttered, then shook her head again, more brashly. She chuckled to herself cynically.

“That wasn’t really convincing, was it?” she managed to meet his eyes, but Lorcan still seemed to be avoiding her stare a bit. “It’s just that… I thought that Manon and I could have had something together, that maybe she’d done everything that she did for me because she cared for me. We got into an argument about it, but she came up to our room later in the night and… we kissed.”

Lorcan’s brows raised slightly, and he snorted a bit.

“So what’s the problem, then? It’s obvious that she cares for you at least a bit, so there’s no issue.” Lorcan began shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the way that he only did around Elide, a subconscious indicator that he was uncomfortable.

“She was drunk. She remembers nothing past our argument, but says she recalls her kissing someone. She’s not sure if it was a dream or not, though. I don’t know, Lorcan—normally I’d just brush it off as something Manon would do, just a part of her, but I’m tired of playing games, whether she’s aware or not. I just… I just want to be sure of something.” A tear slid from Elide’s eye, and she hated it. Almost like a bit of a reflex, Lorcan brushed his fingertips against her cheek, wiping it. In the process, he’d taken a step closer, to where their noses were almost touching.

Elide looked him in the eyes, the man that who she’d perhaps once had an inkling of a feeling—perhaps even love—for, who had thrown it away, who’d felt miserable for it. She knew for a fact what he wanted to do right now: to claim her lips with his, and he’d do it without the assistance of a drink.

Maybe it was the fact that she knew Manon was in their room, unaware of what happened last night and the sheer significance of it, or if she actually wanted to do it out of genuine desire and not spite, but Elide rose a bit so her lips were across from Lorcan’s, and closed her eyes as he bridged the gap in between the two of them.

She wished she could say that it felt wrong, that she’d wanted to pull away and run back into the room she was staying in, but that wasn’t the case. 

Lorcan deepened the kiss, slowly backing her into the wall, and she intertwined her fingers into his silky hair. She felt his arm reach behind her to fiddle with a door handle, and suddenly she was in another room, presumably Lorcan’s.

The temperature in the room seemed to continue to rise as Lorcan gripped her hips and pulled their bodies together. A small moan escaped from her, and he groaned against her lips in response. His hands slipped underneath the tunic she was wearing, exploring the planes of her hips until they inched up high enough to graze the underside of her breast. Elide whimpered and quickly unbuttoned the tunic, letting it fall to the floor. She moved forward to continue the kiss, and Lorcan hesitated against her lips.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Elide?” he questioned. Elide, still in a bit of a daze, laughed lazily and fiddled with one of his buttons.

“Of course I do, you brute. This isn’t my first time. I’m not some lord’s prized virgin daughter.” Elide chuckled. It was true, though: in the months after the war, Elide had taken a… vacation from Terrasen, opting to travel around Erilea to see the world that she’d missed for so many years. There were a few men that she’d taken particularly fond interest to during the trip…

Lorcan just laughed, removing his shirt before laying her down on the bed.

“Whatever you say.”

 


End file.
